Lucy. It's very sweet of you not to want to marry me, Mr. Bamford. Bam. Ask me to the wedding. Ste. Yes, you should be good for a thumping present after this. Bam. I'll stand my corner. You've to tackle the curate. I'll be off. Ste. Good night. Lucy. Good night, and thank you. Bam. It's _me_ that's thankful. Good night. (_Exit Bamford. Stephen crosses to left door, opens it and calls._) Ste. Now, Mr. Montgomery. (_Enter Walter. Lucy rises, l._) Walter. Well, sir? (_Crosses to r. below table._) Ste. (_c. above table_). Are you or are you not going to marry my daughter? Walter. That depends. Ste. I'll tell you something. The syndicate's bust. In fact, there never was a syndicate. Walter. You mustn't ask me to believe that, sir. You gave the thing away yourself. Ste. (_impressively_). There never was a syndicate. A limited company isn't a limited company till it's registered. We weren't registered. You understand? You can't go telling people about a syndicate that never existed. Walter (_smiling_). That sounds reasonable. I shan't tell. Ste. Yes. Well, what about my daughter? Walter. I thought you objected to me. Ste. I did. But I begin to think there's more in you than meets the eye. Walter. Thanks for the compliment. Ste. I do wish you weren't a curate, though. (_Crosses to fire._) There's nothing in the Church for a smart man. Walter. There are plenty of prizes in the Church. Lucy. And Walter's going to win them, father. (_Up to Walter._) Walter. Yes. Ste. He's not won much yet. Walter. This is all the prize I want, Mr. Verity. (_Takes her hand._) Ste. She's not a bad start, either. You've got round me, and it takes a bit of doing. (_Crosses to Walter._) Look here, my lad, I come of a long lived stock and you'll disappoint me if I don't see you a bishop before I die. I'll come to the Palace, Lucy, and hang my hat up some day. (_Going to exit to leave them together._) CURTAIN. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graft, by Harold Brighouse